


Dying Out Here

by magicconchshel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, M/M, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, background jazz/prowl - Freeform, but i worked on it for too long so lol, i dont know if i like this, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25739263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicconchshel/pseuds/magicconchshel
Summary: Smokescreen brings Bluestreak into the med bay when he is shot during battle.
Relationships: Jazz/Prowl
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	Dying Out Here

**Author's Note:**

> hey gamers, idk if i like this or not, but I've been working on it for way too long and I just wanna post it so pls take it thank u and good bye :)))))))) (not really good bye, ill still post more just take this for now)

The bullets went through Bluestreak’s frame as he maneuvered from one pile of rubble to the next. Three shots. One through his abdomen. One below his chassis. And one inside his chassis. He knew he was hurt, so he dove for the rocks. His pedes stuck out and he could feel stray bullets land just next to them. He pulled his knees in and covered his helm. 

When the fire stopped, Bluestreak hauled himself to sit on his knees. The holes on his front dripped energon and it was pooling on the ground. The exit wounds in his back felt like they were gushing.

He supported himself on an elbow and used his free servo to clutch his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding anyway he could. It didn’t help. Energon seeped between his digits. 

His frame jerked and he coughed. For the first time, he felt pain. His vision fritzed out for a klik, and when it came back, there was a new puddle below his helm. He had started to bleed from his glossa. Drops of coolant dripped onto the puddle. He was crying too. 

* * *

Smokescreen was racing across the battlefield, zig zagging across the line of fire and ignoring orders. Normally, if he wanted to get somewhere fast, he’d use his alt mode, but the terrain was too jagged for it to be effective. His optics were trained on his target. 

He could see part of a mech behind some ruins and ran to meet him. Bluestreak was balanced on an elbow and his knees and was panting in short gasps. When Smokescreen reached his side, he hovered, unsure of what to do. But when a grenade went off close to their location, Smokescreen wasted no time covering his brother with his frame. He grabbed Bluestreak and cradled him in his lap. Debris flew past them. Smokescreen squeezed his brother closer to his chassis and used his arms to shield as much of him as he could. 

When the explosion died down, Smokescreen relaxed and held Bluestreak out where he could see him. His helm rolled to rest back on Smokescreen’s shoulder. His optics were dim and his limbs were limp. 

“Bluestreak,” Smokescreen whispered into his audial. “You with me?”

Bluestreak’s arm came up and he put a servo on his chassis plating and held on tightly. 

“Good mech,” Smokescreen said. He gripped his arm and rubbed up and down in an attempt to comfort him. “I’m gonna get you out of here, ok?

Bluestreak didn’t respond, so Smokescreen wrapped his arms around his neck and hoisted them into a standing position. The pile of rock offered enough cover for him to stand without fear of being shot, but he had no idea where to go from there. 

“ _ Prowl _ ,” he opened his private comm. link to Prowl. “ _ Prowl are you there? _ ”

Prowl stood at a console deep within the base. There were other mecha surrounding him, all occupied. His optics were locked onto the console in front of him, constantly inputting and outputting data. He blinked at the sudden comm. from his brother. He sounded frantic. 

“ _ What is it, Smokescreen? _ ” he asked. 

“ _ Bluestreak’s been shot. I have him with me, but I need to know the safest route to get him to the med bay. Can you help us out?” _

A servo rose to Prowl’s face as Smokescreen spoke. His helm bowed and his digits brushed against his lips. His face remained neutral, but his optics spoke of terror. 

“ _ Prowl? Prowl, are you there? _ ” Smokescreen said. “ _ Come on, we’re dying out here. _ ”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Prowl shouted so loudly over the comm. he nearly said it out loud. “ _ Yes, I’m here. Head east and hide behind the broken walls. At the end of the carnage, make a left towards the base and go for the med bay opening. Clear?” _

“ _ Crystal. Thank you, Prowl. _ ”

Prowl did not respond. A mech approached him from behind and tapped him on the shoulder. He called out Prowl’s name, but Prowl did not hear him. He whirled around and shoved the mech out of the way and ran for the door. There were several shouts for him as he left the control room, and several more down the hall. 

By the time he made it outside, Smokescreen was already nearing the med bay. As they got closer, Prowl could see the massive amounts of energon staining their plating and he hoped it wasn’t all Bluestreak’s. 

Smokescreen did not stop to say anything to Prowl. He ran past him, leaving Prowl to catch up. They made it through the med bay door together. Those guarding it did not think to stop them, all were shocked to see Prowl out on the battlefield. 

“Where’s Ratchet?” Smokescreen yelled once they got inside. 

A nurse, with a bewildered expression, looked up from their work and pointed a digit to the other side of the med bay. Ratchet was working on someone in stasis, welding an incision shut. 

The two mechs rushed to him and Ratchet jumped when they came into view. “What are you three doing here?”

Smokescreen frowned. “What does it look like? We need help.”

Ratchet handed off his tools to one of his nurses to finish the job while another nurse was already wheeling over a medical berth. 

“Right, just set him down here,” Ratchet says. “And Prowl, what are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the Command Center?”

When Smokescreen turned around, he found that Prowl was a few steps behind him, holding his helm at the sides. Both Ratchet and Smokescreen could tell he was on the verge of a meltdown. 

With Bluestreak now safely in the med bay, it was now vital to get Prowl back into the Command Center to finish the battle. His teammates were no doubt scrambling to fill in the hole that Prowl left when he abandoned his post. 

“Prowl,” Smokescreen walked across the gap between them and held him by the shoulders. “You gotta go back to your post. The battle can’t continue without you.”

He wasn’t looking at Smokescreen. He was looking just past him at where Ratchet was working on Bluestreak’s frame. His vents were getting shakier and he swallowed every few seconds. 

Smokescreen gripped his shoulders tighter. “Listen to me. You have to pull yourself together and go back to your station. They need direction out there.”

Prowl’s optics found Smokescreen’s and he held his gaze for a few seconds before tearing it away again. Smokescreen shoved him lightly. 

“Go. I’ll stay with him. I’ll give him a transfusion if he needs it, just get out of here.”

Prowl did not say anything. He ran out of the med bay and made a left towards the command center. 

Ratchet was pulling a bullet out of Bluestreak’s torso when Smokescreen turned back around. He held it up and inspected it before dropping it into a tin. 

“Take a seat, Smokescreen,” Ratchet said. “We might actually need to do that transfusion.”

* * *

The med bay was quiet now. Mecha were lined up against the wall. Most of them were recharging, trying to sleep off their injuries from the battle. 

Prime couldn’t help but notice how many of the injuries sustained were preventable. The battle had taken a dive when Prowl abandoned his post. Prime received a frantic call from the Tactical Department, saying Prowl had abandoned his station and was ignoring his comms. The Prime had been too busy to deal with it at that moment and ordered them to send out a search party for him. Their young tactician was found, but Prime had momentarily feared that something horrible had happened to him. 

When he heard that Prowl was found safely and had resumed his position, there was a sense of both relief and anger. Prowl, their young yet reliable tactician, had abandoned his post for no given reason only to return back within a matter of kliks. He was beginning to suspect foul play. 

Regardless, he wanted to hear what Prowl had to say for himself. That’s what led him to where he was now. He was wandering through the med bay, as quietly as possible, trying to find Ratchet. Prowl was last seen entering the med bay after the battle and he was hoping that Ratchet had seen him since. 

He found the medic putting a box of supplies away into a cabinet towards the back wall of the med bay. Optimus approached him quietly and placed a servo on his shoulder. 

“Ratchet,” he said. 

Ratchet turned around, supplies still in his arms. “Hm?”

“I am looking for Prowl. Have you seen him?”

“Prowl?” Ratchet placed what he was holding onto the counter. “I have. I’m assuming you’re looking for him because of today’s battle.” 

“Correct.”

“I’ll tell you where he is, but you have to promise me you won’t upset him. I don’t need him running off again.”

It seemed as though the medic was well aware of what had happened. 

“You were told of the incident?” Optimus asked. 

“Told? I’m the one he was running to. He and Smokescreen came in here with Bluestreak. Apparently, he’d been hit during battle. They delivered him to me, personally. It’s probably a good thing they did. If they hadn’t, I’m not certain that Bluestreak would have made it.”

While it was still baffling, Optimus supposed Prowl’s disappearance made more sense now. Not that it was justified. Prowl had nearly cost them the battle. His team struggled to make up for his absence and lacked the mental power that Prowl possessed to command the Autobots. 

“I see,” Optimus hummed. Prowl’s absence was explained, but not warranted. 

It seemed as though Ratchet had caught on to the Prime’s train of thought. “And I know you still want to talk to him, and you can, but he’s a bit preoccupied right now.”

Ratchet stepped to the side and motioned for Optimus to follow him. A few paces away, they could see Prowl and Smokescreen flanking a medical berth with Bluestreak recharging on top. The sniper was elevated and was hooked up to several machines. With the blanket draped over him, his injuries were hidden, but Optimus could guess where he was shot. 

Smokescreen sat limply in a chair. His helm rested on the back of it and his lips were parted and were moving as if he was speaking. Prowl was on the other side of the medical berth. He was hunched over, helm in his servos. 

Optimus and Ratchet could hear quiet footsteps approaching. Jazz appeared and he tugged aside the curtain that was separating him from the three brothers. With no curtain facing them, Ratchet and Optimus could see Jazz place a servo on Prowl’s shoulder and they could see Prowl raise his helm to him. He stood up and they each put an arm around the other’s waist. They shared a quick kiss before looking down at Bluestreak. Smokescreen opened his optics and then followed their gaze down to the mech on the berth. 

Neither Ratchet nor Optimus said anything. When they walked away, Optimus was not able to find any surprise in Ratchet’s frame. What they had just witnessed was not new to him. 

Now out of view from them, Optimus said, “Perhaps it is best for me to come back tomorrow.”

Ratchet nodded. “Yes, I think tomorrow would be much better.”


End file.
